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gotten his heart beating in a way nothing had since the explosion. He’d felt blood pumping in his veins, rage surging through him when he’d seen that bastard strike her. It had felt good to act, to do something, to feel needed again.
    He watched as Rev. Marshall walked back inside the kitchen, then looked across the street to where Megan sat in her car giving her statement to a uniformed police officer. Even at this distance, Nate could see she was crying. He found himself wishing he could have a second go at this Donny asshole, whoever he was. It was clear the bastard had bothered her before—and that he’d been waiting for her, maybe even stalking her.
    Nate had just climbed into the cab of his truck when he’d spotted the Lincoln Continental pull up behind her and a man jump out and rush into her car. Nate had reacted on instinct, leaving his truck in the alley and going after the bastard, his Colt M1911 cocked and locked in his concealed shoulder holster. He’d forgotten about the men in the car until the window had rolled down and he’d seen the barrel of a Glock pointed his way.
    And you fought as a special operator for what branch of the military, West—the Salvation Army?
    He’d been damned lucky those idiots couldn’t shoot worth a damn.
    It was dark now, the wind colder. Drivers slowed down as they passed, pedestrians stopping on the sidewalk to watch the spectacle of squad cars and flashing lights.
    Nate’s thoughts were interrupted by a child’s giggle. He followed the sound, his gaze drawn to a tall man in a black SWAT uniform who carried a blond-haired little girl. Wearing a pink coat and wrapped in a white blanket, the girl must have been about four years old. The cop bounced her in his arms, and she giggled again, clutching a purple toy pony to her chin.
    She was about the cutest thing Nate had ever seen.
    Megan must have heard her daughter’s laughter, too. Relief on her face, she got out of the car and hurried over to the man, who enfolded her in his embrace, kissing her cheek and placing the little girl—Megan had called her Emily—in her arms. Megan held her daughter close, tears spilling down her cheeks. The tall cop put his arms around her, holding both mother and daughter close. Was he her boyfriend? Her husband? Nate couldn’t recall seeing a wedding ring on her finger.
    And then suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get back to the ranch. Without saying goodbye, he crossed the street, climbed into his truck, and headed for the ranch.
    It was only after he was halfway home that he realized he had her wallet—the wallet he’d ripped from that bastard Donny’s hands—in his coat pocket.

CHAPTER 2
     
    “ I want to be reassigned from SWAT to Megan’s protection detail until we have this sonofabitch in custody. I don’t give a shit if it’s a conflict of interests.”
    Fighting to ignore the anxious knot in her stomach, Megan set about reheating last night’s leftover spaghetti for Emily’s supper, while Marc paced the living room talking on his cell phone with Chief Irving. No matter that Irving was Marc’s boss and ought to have been the one giving orders. Marc was the most protective big brother in the history of the universe. He wouldn’t let something like rank stand in his way.
    Megan would never be able to repay Marc for all he’d done to keep her safe—nor would she ever be able to make up for the hurt she’d caused him.
    She slid a plate of spaghetti and green beans in the microwave, pushed the buttons, then turned her back to the stove, feeling strangely disoriented in her own kitchen, her sense of safety shattered.
    Damn it! Damn!
    Why had she believed that a restraining order would be enough to keep Donny away? She should have realized that news stories about the settlement from her lawsuit against the state Department of Corrections would catch his attention. Though the total amount of the settlement—$1.5 million—was sealed by court order, Donny would